Words of Comfort
by Wraffie
Summary: COLDCOFFEESHIPPING! An AU involving Damion as a Mafia Heir and Paul as his Bodyguard. When his charge has a nightmare, how will Paul comfort his friend? Oneshot. Rated such for a touch of swearing. Paul enjoys his cursing, after all


A/N: PLEASE NOTE: This is an AU with Damion as a Mafia Heir, and Paul as his bodyguard. The idea is exclusive to the lovely forum I'm honoured to be a part of, and while the characters belong to Pokemon the concept of Mafiaheir!Damion belongs to the wonderful Nickbo, while the concept of bodyguard!Paul is mine.

By the way: The 'Brain' family is like the Sinnoh Frontier Brains. Palmer is the head of the mafia and Damion is the heir.  
The 'Rocket' family is Team Rocket with Giovanni Rocket as the head and Silver as the heir.

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Words of Comfort

Even when his eyes were closed and Paul was asleep, he was never completely off guard. He slept like a Buneary, jolting completely awake at the smallest sound, ready to deal with any sort of threat, no matter the hour at which he was woken. This was true most of the time, anyway.

But the day before had been a late one. Damion had insisted on running around the entire day, as he normally did, but for some reason it had taken more of a toll on the 19-year-old then usual. After Damion had finally decided to call it a night (at a time that might well have been considered very early morning) Paul had staggered back to his room at the Brain compound, and had simply stripped down to his boxers and passed out on his bed, too tired even to shower. Paul attributed his unusual exhaustion to his uncharacteristically deep sleep that caused him to remain unconscious even as the door to his room was opened.

"Paulpaulpaul!" Cried an all too familiar voice, blasphemously loud for that time of night/early morning. That woke Paul up. His eyes slowly opened, and he blinked them rapidly as they stung painfully. There were no windows in the boy's room, so his eyes trailed to the clock on his beside table. 3:56am. What the hell was Damion doing in his room at 4am?

While the bodyguard would normally have been furious at being woken up this late/early for no apparent reason, something about the tone of the voice made him hold back a groggy scolding. Normally the blond cheered his name excitedly, happily even. But now…the tone was more urgent and fearful then slurred and cheery.

Paul propped himself up on an elbow, letting the sheets of the bed roll down off his shoulders as he rubbed one of his eyes with his free hand.

"What is it, Damion?" He asked gruffly, his voice low. But there was a definite amount of concern beneath the hoarse tone. His eyes, still stinging, focused on the blond. He was outfitted in a ridiculously adorable pair of footie pajamas patterned with pokeballs, and he looked unharmed. But there was a look of pouty fear softening his face. His blond hair was wild and unsymmetrical, and he tightly clutched a green Poochyena plushie in his arms. Paul thought he had never seen anything more pitiful or endearing in his life.

"I-I had a nightmare…" The blond murmured softly, his wide orange eyes falling downward to gaze at the carpet in embarrassment. The words were spoken slowly, hesitantly. Two words that should never have been related to Damion. The blond shuffled his feet as if he were about to bolt, looking up imploringly at Paul. Obviously, this was serious. With a light groan, Paul sat up, staring back at the boy in silence a moment. What in the hell was he supposed to do? He didn't know how to comfort people, after all! Without speaking Paul patted the bed to his side, an obvious invitation to sit down.

The blond looked relieved for a moment, as if he had been expecting an angry retort, and he took a few slow steps forward toward his bodyguard. Paul was disturbed by the indecision.

"You're not going to let a nightmare make you slow, are you?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow slightly. The statement seemed to affect Damion. Of course it did. Being called slow was a great insult to the blond male. Perhaps it wasn't a comforting statement, but at least it snapped him out of his daze. Paul was unfamiliar with this slow, frightened Damion; he needed the regular one back.

Orange eyes rose up from the carpet to glare with attempted anger at the other boy.

"I'm not slow! I'm totally fast!" the blond whined, frowning at the very suggestion. With that he dashed forward, leaping the final distance to the bed and landing on all fours, clutching the Poochyena doll to his chest with one arm. Sticking his face up close to Paul's, he continued to glare, pouting despite the angry gesture.

"See?" He asked, the rather cute glare vanishing to be replaced by a proud smirk.

The purple-haired teen moved his face back in surprise at the sudden proximity, shaking his head slightly. He stared back at the other boy with dark, impassive eyes. It was easy for him to see his charge was still unnerved. It was always a simple matter to look at Damion and see if something was wrong with him. You could just glance at his eyes and read him like a book. He was so trusting and innocent. And he hardly understood what treachery was in general, nevermind how to actually be deceitful. Perhaps that was why it was so easy for Paul to trust him. His dark eyes softened, as did his coarse tone.

"What was the nightmare about?"

This brought the barely-hidden fright to the surface. Orange eyes fell again as Damion blushed, tracing a swirly pattern on the sheets of the bed below him with his free hand.

"There were Rockets and stuff and they were chasing me and you weren't there and I was in a maze and I was lost and confused and then the walls started closing in and I was sc-scared!" He slurred, all in one breath. He was embarrassed to be admitting it, but also obviously relieved to have shared. The pleading pout was back, and Paul wondered what in the hell he was supposed to say to_ that_, now. The Rockets were constantly sending assassins after Damion, but Paul was a good bodyguard and Silver was a good security chief. None had ever gotten close. But, obviously, Damion was subconsciously scared. After all, all it took was a single assassin getting through the security and that was it. Paul shuddered slightly at the very thought. And that fear, doubled with Damion's not-so-subconscious claustrophobia all made one terrifying dream for the boy.

The usual generic 'I'm sorry' or 'It'll be okay' didn't really seem to cut it as comforting words. Fuck, this wasn't a part of his job description. Well, not his formal one. But Paul saw it as his duty to protect Damion from anything that wanted to hurt him. And this fear he felt was obviously causing him pain. Paul's expression remained cold even though his mind was racing for something that he could say. The blond seemed put-out by the other's lack of a response, thinking the boy was upset with him. So when he spoke again, he was even more nervous then before.

"Can I stay here for tonight?" Damion asked pitifully, looking up at Paul through his eyelashes as he curled his fingers into his plushie's synthetic green fur.

_Oh. Shit._ Now what was Paul supposed to say? His mind screamed at him to agree. He wanted to make Damion feel better, he wanted to keep him close. But…the idea flustered him? Well, fuck, that was natural! Completely natural! Just because one boy got nervous at the thought of another boy sleeping in his room didn't mean he…felt anything for the other boy. A pink flush entered Paul's bronzed cheeks, and he was immeasurably grateful for the darkness.

At that moment however, the bedside clock beeped quietly, announcing the arrival of 4:00am. The already nervous and jumpy Damion gave a decidedly girly squeak and a gasp, practically jumping into Paul's lap at the unexpected sound. Paul's blush reddened as Damion's tense form pressed against him. He found himself finally reacting, finally able to do something at least a little comforting. His arms slowly snaked around Damion's body, pulling him closer. With Damion in his gentle hold he slowly fell back against the pillow, pulling the blond with him. Lying on his back he set Damion next to him, his arm pillowing the boy's head. Paul didn't look at Damion, but he could feel the boy's questioning stare, could imagine the innocent look of confusion surely on his features.

"Paul?"

"Yes, Blondie. You can stay here," Paul replied softly to the questioning tone, using his affectionate nickname for the other.

The blond gave a happy coo in his ear, snuggling closer into Paul's side and nuzzling his neck briefly as he got comfortable.

The bare skin of Paul's chest tingled at the feeling of flannel-covered limbs slowly moving across it, as Damion wrapped his arms around his chest. The bodyguard felt the boy's tense muscles relax.

Damion's hair was tickling his arm, and Paul's side was growing pleasantly warm from all the contact.

The purple-haired boy finally opened his eyes to look at Damion, seeing only the top of his blond head. With his nose practically in Blondie's hair, he couldn't help but notice how nice his hair smelled. Like wind, and energy and joy. Those weren't really scents, Paul knew, but those were the words that came into his mind when he inhaled.

The warmth Damion provided made Paul drowsy, the gentle rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat soothed him. That, coupled with his already-present exhaustion made sleep almost impossible to resist. Almost. Paul was on alert again, fighting the urge to just drift off. Even though his eyes were shut, his attention was on Damion, listening to him as he slept. If he so much as whimpered in his sleep Paul was ready to gently pull him closer, to comfort him somehow, to chase away those fucking nightmares that dared to invade his Blondie's nice-smelling head.

But apparently he did fall asleep eventually, because he was woken by the happy chanting of an excited boy in his ear.

"Paulpaulpaul!"

Paul woke with a vague grin, not opening his eyes quite yet. Damion was happy again. The fear was gone. Everything was as it should have been.

"Ready to go?" The voice continued cheerily and Paul felt it as Damion moved off of him, leaving his side cold, and leaped off the bed. And despite how tired he was after staying up half the night, and even though all Paul wanted was to sleep, preferably with Damion snuggling his side, his reply was the same as always.

"Yes, Blondie."


End file.
